Margarette (Violet) (12 page)

In between offers for something to drink and a
quick tour of the house she considers just telling him, but imagines how awful
it would be when she meets his father. He could probably read Tommy like a book,
and would know something is wrong. Internally she just feels so out of place,
waiting to meet a man that she doesn’t want to meet. Why did she even agree to
this, anyway? Her evil clone had taken over and decided to do something she was
against. She excuses herself to use the bathroom on the first floor.

Margarette looks at herself in the mirror. To tell
or not to tell? Tommy is in a good mood. She doesn’t know how she is going to
get through it. What if May heard already from one of her friends, and told her
mother? What if Mrs. Gallager heard a new rumor floating around while at the
salon? What other surprises could this situation throw at her? Tommy would have
to wait… maybe even after dinner, she thinks. Tell him on the way home. Better
yet, just not tell him and take care of it on her own without him.

She hears the Chopsticks waltz playing on a piano,
and leaves the safety of the bathroom. She walks to the sound of music. Tommy
is sitting at a grand piano, an elegant black affair positioned in the grand
foyer next to a row of front-facing windows, clearly meant to be showcased to
anyone driving up to the house. He looks up smiling as she approaches. She
smiles back without even thinking about it. She doesn’t smile much, but Tommy
has an infectious grin. The tone of the piano is good and his pace is
consistent, but his notes build only childish tunes.

“I didn’t know you could play,” Margarette says.

“I can’t.”

She smiles and looks to the side scrunching her nose.
“Clearly you can.”

“Do that again.”

“Do what?”

“You’re so cute when you try not to insult me.”

“I’m just saying you are playing a piano.”

“No, I mean… I don’t know much.” He moves his
hands over the keys and plays freely. “I wanted to take classes, but my dad won’t
pay for them.”

“I thought he was rich? I mean, your family is
wealthy. And you do own a piano,” she adds, throwing her palms out showcasing
the instrument.

“Well, Father says it’s a waste of time. You
know.”

She smiles thinking how proper is his use of
Father
,
but Tommy still thinks she’s making fun of him.

“That’s not true at all,” she says. “It’s
beautiful.”

“You think so? Well, he says if you can’t support
yourself, then it’s not worthwhile.”

Her smile fades. “I guess he’s right.”

The piano fades and his fingers sit on the pressed
keys. “I don’t know. I’m not super good at anything he does. He keeps….” His
head snaps up and his fingers lift off the keys. “He’s here.”

She follows his gaze and sees a car coming up the
driveway. “Your father?” She almost sounds scared.

“That’s his car.”

Her pulse flutters and she looks down. Tommy
stands up and softly grabs her neck, then brushes her hair back from her eyes
without being invasive. “I know how awkward this is for you.”

“No. You don’t.”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m terrified,” she admits, and then wishes she
had used a different word like “nervous” or “excited”.

He leans in to kiss her, but she ducks slightly
back.

“The lipstick will smear,” she says.

“Good thinking.”

He kisses her forehead instead. “You’ll be fine.”

She sidesteps away from him as the car drives
closer to the window. “Don’t get any ideas. As far as you and I go, I think you’d
be better off with Sharon.”

He turns away from her slowly and faces the
window. “Impossible.”

She can see his reflection in the glass, and he
looks almost sad. She regrets saying it, but she blurts out things like that
all the time around him. Partly, she knows, is because she’s afraid that he
doesn’t really want her, and she doesn’t want to get her hopes up. But his
expression warms her heart towards him; he looks vulnerable. She wants to say
she’s sorry, but she can’t come up with the words.

Instead, she watches through the thick front
window as the family slowly climbs out of the car. The glass is vintage; so old
that it sags with age and bends the light warping the outside world like a
funhouse mirror. Margarette sees May’s twisted visage in the glass fixing her
lipstick.

Great. May is here too.
Margarette muses, frustrated.
And why does she need to fix her lipstick for anyway? It’s her freaking house
.

Tommy turns back to her and speaks softly. “Can I
tell you the truth?”

“I think lies are much safer sometimes.”

“I don’t want this to come up later.” He takes a
deep breath. “She’s been calling me.”

“Sharon?”

He nods.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says.

“I just wanted to be honest with you.”

Her voice cracks a little. “So she wants you
back?”

“I don’t know. It started in the weirdest way.
After you graduated, she started calling me late at night. She said the weirdest
thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Some lame excuse; that some old men were calling
her number and asking for her to do stuff… gross stuff. Not sure why she would
say that. I think she made it all up… just to….”

A big grin ripples over Margarette’s face as the
door opens. She fights as best as she can to keep it hidden, but hearing that
from Tommy was priceless. A minute ago she wanted to cry or run out of the
house screaming, but now all she wants to do is laugh out loud. May walks in
and recoils from her grin. Margarette feels tears come to her eyes as she tries
to hold it back.

Mr. and Mrs. Gallager walk in, well-dressed in
business clothes attire. Mr. Gallager zeroes in on the grinning Margarette.
“Who’s this young lady?” Tommy’s father asks.

Tommy clears his throat. “Father, this is
Margarette. Margarette, this is my father, Walden Gallager.”

His proper address pushes her over the edge, and
she starts laughing nearly hysterically.

Tommy’s mother raises an eyebrow. “What’s so
funny, my dear?”

“I’m sorry,” Margarette says, still laughing.

May scoffs. “Well, what is it?”

Margarette seriously tries to keep it together.
“Sorry…. Tommy just told me a joke.”

Mrs. Gallager says, “Well, I know Tommy’s sense of
humor. It’s probably inappropriate.”

Tommy nods with blatant confusion.

Mr. Gallager comes forward and extends his hand to
Margarette. “A pleasure, dear.”

Margarette shakes his hand, smiling. “Same here,
Mr. Gallager.”

“Please, call me Walt.”

Margarette thinks this is where she should say
something like,
Thank you, Walt
, but there’s something about him that doesn’t
feel right. She only smiles in acknowledgment.

“Father, it was Margarette’s graduation this
morning and I’m taking her out to dinner tonight. We just stopped by to make
introductions.”

“Where are you going to dinner?” Mr. Gallager
asks.

“Panucci’s.”

“Oh, come on, son. That place is not good enough
for a graduation dinner.”

Tommy’s confidence falters. “I thought it was
alright.”

“No…” the father says with a superior smile,
waving his hand dismissively. “Especially not for a girl dressed like that.
Take her to Commander’s instead.” He winks.

What was that? Wink? What did he mean? Commander’s
is the most expensive restaurant in town. The place where the rich go to only
because it’s known to be expensive, but the food’s okay. Tommy might be the son
of a rich family, but he can’t make that much money to justify a ridiculously
expensive dinner. And besides, Margarette would feel completely out of place
there. It’s a thought that she seems to share with Mrs. Gallager, who puckers
her lips as if she has smelled something foul. Margarette can almost hear her
thoughts.
Commander’s? Surely not with her.

“I don’t mind Panucci’s,” she tells Tommy. Then she
looks up at his father. “Thank you for your suggestion. Maybe we’ll go there
next time.”

Mr. Gallager raises an eyebrow as if wondering
whether that was a rejection or not. “Next time, then. In fact, we can all go
together. I’m paying.”

Again Margarette notices Mrs. Gallager doesn’t
seem to agree with her husband. This time the older woman just raises an
eyebrow.

“Thanks, Father,” Tommy says, looking down.

Margarette has to make an effort to keep her face
straight. This man has some control issues, and his wife clearly does not
approve. “Well, I don’t mean to keep you from your own dinner. Maybe we should
be heading out. Right, Tommy?”

“Yes. We should. Oh—my wallet. Be right back.”

He turns around and heads to the next room where
she hears him take the stairs to the second floor.

Mr. and Mrs. Gallager move closer inside and hang
a purse and a briefcase they were carrying, while May approaches Margarette. “Good
to see you again. Haven’t heard your name around here for weeks.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Margarette replies
casually.
Bitch
, she adds silently. “So your husband is working again?”

Mrs. Gallager looks at Margarette. “Oh, I didn’t
know you knew Maybel’s husband.”

Margarette grins. She had never heard May’s full
name. She assumes Tommy’s full name must be Tomas or Thomas, but who knows what
archaic term derived Tommy.

“I know
of
him,” Margarette says. “He’s
just not around much, so I’ve never actually met him.”
Take that
.

May’s upper lip twitches. She replies, “He’ll be
here later.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I will miss him,” Margarette
says with fake sadness.

May frowns while Mrs. Gallager asks, “Margarette,
how is your mother?”

Margarette doesn’t know how to answer. She wonders
if Mrs. Gallager means whether Margarette’s mother has obtained employment.
Margarette goes with an ambiguous response. “She’s fine. Thank you for asking.”

“I think it would be nice to see her in public
again,” Mrs. Gallager muses. “I wonder how we could make that happen.”

“Mother has taken to gardening,” Margarette says
with a sweet smile. If the word
garden
was replaced with
drink
,
then it would be entirely true. “She gardens a lot during the day. Not sure
what she has planned over the summer, but I can find out.” None of which was
true. Margarette’s mom was drinking a lot and disappearing more and more, but
not taking care of anything specific other than the never ending quest to drown
her sorrows in grain alcohol.

Mrs. Gallager smiles politely. “So, what are your
plans now that your junior education has come to an end? What colleges have you
applied to?”

“I was thinking I would work and save up some money,”
Margarette replies coolly.

Mrs. Gallager’s expression turns sour, but Mr.
Gallager chimes in. “Sometimes the cost of college isn’t worth all the hype. Like
Maybel here, for example.”

“Father, please. Not again,” May says, but her
protest comes out weakly, as if afraid to defy him.

“I’m just saying that college isn’t for everyone.
I paid for your expensive college education, and for what? What are you doing
now that you couldn’t do without your degree?”

“It’s not just what I learned. It’s having the
degree, going through the motions, meeting people. You even recognized that
networking was a big part of the college experience.”

Her father laughs. “Yes, I tried to set you up
with several men of means, but you ran off each one of them with your sparkling
personality.”

“Father!”

Wooow
, Margarette thinks. The mother and
father unveil their teeth and it becomes clear that Tommy is the great hope for
the family. Margarette fights to stay silent in the awkward family dispute.

“So darling Margarette,” the father says, “if you
want to work and save money, by all means, do. At least you’ll be doing
something productive with your time. You should open an account at our branch.
Tommy can you help you with that.”

“Help her with what, Father?” Tommy returns
holding his wallet in the air like a trophy. He approaches Margarette with
apologetic eyes. “Sorry, I couldn’t find the wallet. It was in the hamper in
the jeans I wore this morning.”

“Setting up an account for Margarette at the bank,”
his father answers his question.

“Of course.” He leans into Margarette guiltily. “I’m
working as a glorified teller at the bank.” Then louder he adds, “I can help
anyone with that, Father.”

“Tommy’s horrible with math,” May says. “I don’t
see how he keeps up.”

“Do you like working there, Tommy?” Margarette
asks him.

Mr. Gallager doesn’t let Tommy answer the
question. “Work is not something one has to like. And Tommy is great with
people. He’ll go far.”

Margarette notices May lowers her head, frowning
angrily, but does not say a word. Yet.

“I agree,” Mrs. Gallager adds. “Tommy has been
doing great at the bank this year. You’ll go far, dear. Just maintain your
focus….” Her voice becomes hard. “And always remember who you are, and the path
that is meant for you.” 

“Thank you, Mother. Father.” Tommy smiles, clearly
not hearing the double meaning in Mrs. Gallager’s words. “Margarette? Ready to
go?”

“Yes,” she replies. More than ready. All she wants
to do is leave. But Margarette was not one to ever get her way. It was bound to
happen, so then it happens.

“Well, what about
her
?” May asks, lifting
her head and looking at Margarette venomously.

“Me?” Margarette asks.

“How is Tommy going to go back to school with
her
around?”

“Back to school?” Tommy asks, scoffing. “I’d have
to go to school to go back to school.”

“What, like you’re ever going to take over the
bank without knowing anything about finance?” May asks.